


The Life we've planned

by sianii



Series: Time is a very malleable thing. [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 2012 fic, 2012!Steve Rogers, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, POV Steve, Post-Avengers (2012), Steve centric, Team as Family, adjusting to modern day life, also ignoring everything we were told in AoU, clint's farm never happened, its a spinn off to my endgame fix it fic, its a v different world, nothing after avengers happened as it did for us bc time travel has consequences dammit, steves looking for bucky and he can do this all day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sianii/pseuds/sianii
Summary: We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. The old skin has to be shed before the new one can come.- Joseph CampbellAfter the Avengers' victory over the alien invasion in 2012, a visitor from the future tells Steve Rogers that he's not the only WWII remnant that's made it to the 21st century. With the knowledge that Bucky’s alive and that Hydra is growing inside of Shield, Steve has to find his own path in this new world to finally defeat his one true enemy and save the man who he will always risk everything for.Spinoff to my Endgame Fix it Fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to have read "Everything I've failed to be" to understand this, though I would highly recommend it, as this fic basically starts with 2023!Steve's perspective as a way of introduction.  
> Also this is a WIP but I am 10k in and wanted to get this out.  
> On the characters and canon: I will stick to what is relevant out of later films as much as it applys in the logic of this alternate timeline. I have decided to overhaul Clint though. I love fanfic/comics Clint and am mostly meh on MCU!Clint and Jeremy Renner. So Clint is deaf. He does not have a farm or a family. He's more 616!Clint + my impressions from fics I liked. For visal reference I might have recast him with Ben McKenzie from Gotham in my head... though in 2012 he'd look more like his The O.C. self. Funnily enough: never seen either of these shows but he hits the attractive but rough and not a pretty boy category that I imagine Clint as. I will try to update once a week. I am four chapters in and have another three plotted out but this might become a long one. Also its my birthday today so be nice <3 Okay that's it. Enjoy.

_“Welcome back,” Steve said loudly, getting younger Steve’s attention. He looked as shocked as he had, when Steve had first told him about Bucky and then dropped Peggy’s photo. He didn’t attack Steve again, so Steve hoped they’d moved past that. “You’re not Loki then,” his younger self stated, and Steve shook his head. “Then, how?” Steve chuckled. “Remember when you were frozen for seventy years and suddenly you kinda time travelled into the future, kid?” His younger self grimaced. “This is kinda like that, only that time is way less linear and I came the other way.” Steve’s eyes got bigger, a question forming on his lips but then he shut his mouth. Steve gave him time to process. “That’s not... that’s not like regular technology, though, or is it?” Steve had to laugh. He remembered a time right after being defrosted when everything and then kind of nothing had seemed impossible to him. He’d always been unsure, whether people were bullshitting him or were genuinely trying to explain something to him, that had been far beyond what even Howard Stark could have imagined when they’d been young men together. “Naw, that’s new. Even for me. We had trouble, trouble that might come knocking down your door sometime in the future too. I cannot tell. We’ve already messed up how it went for us quite a bit.” He grimaced. “But the Infinity Stones, the Tesseract and the Sceptre, we needed them, but your universe needs them too.” He got the mind stone from his pouch and held it out to Steve who took it cautiously. “This is the mind stone; it was in the sceptre. You would do well to keep it safe.” It only now occurred to Steve that Vision, an accident born out of so many circumstances, might never be brought into existence in this universe. He really could never save everyone._

_Steve had taken in the information with concentrated silence. Now that Steve had paused, he interrupted quickly. “You said Bucky was,_ alive _?” His voice broke on the last work. He knew exactly how he felt. Had felt it too. Steve gave a curt nod._

_“It’s not pretty and it’s not nice. It’s also very complicated but now you already know, even though I didn’t find out till 2014. I’ve changed the timeline already and I couldn’t bear the thought of you knowing endangering him further. You might wanna stay seated for that.” He added, as younger Steve looked as if he was about to shake out of his own skin._

_And so, Steve told him about how Hydra had survived and how Bucky had survived and how these two were deeply interconnected. He told Steve that he could trust the Avengers and Fury, but should not trust Shield as an organisation and especially not Alexander Pierce, he told him about the bunker in New Jersey and the place they had kept the Winter Solider at in 2014 in D.C._

_His younger self listened all the while, horror in his eyes but determination in the set of his jaw. “I am not going to let him down. I should have gone and searched for him when he…, when he fell.” Steve laughed and his younger self looked ready to punch him again. “I am sorry, kid. I am not laughing at you, it’s just… Natasha. I said the exact same thing to her when I found out and she told me not to blame myself. I don’t think I’ve ever really taken that lesson to heart. Then again, I don’t think she did either. I trust you’ll figure this out. There are few people you can trust as much as Natasha. And if you ever need help when you’re in DC: find a man called Sam Wilson. He will always help you; I promise.”_

_With that he was ready to go. He would have loved little more than to go with himself and save Bucky, see if two years made a difference, see if with a head’s up, they could dismantle Hydra better and quicker, maybe saving countless lives of good hard-working agents and maybe even the legacy Peggy had built with the organisation._

_“Why don’t you come with me? Explain it to the others yourself? They might not believe me.” Steve considered it. Considered seeing Tony and Nat, people who were just becoming friends to him after this day and couldn’t bear it. “You have knowledge you shouldn’t have, about the Winter Solider, about the stones. Fury is by paranoid by design; he will want to investigate, and he will find what he’s looking for. He’s also smart enough not to act prematurely. And Thor will trust you on the stones. To him they are legends, kids’ stories from his world that you shouldn’t know about. They are going to become very real and he will trust in what you’ve been told. Also, I am pretty sure there is security footage of at least three Steve Rogers in this building in the last hour.” Steve stood and helped his younger self up. “Also tell Thor that if any enemy ever gets all the stones together, he should aim for the head.”_

 

The door closed shut behind his doppelganger and Steve scrambled to his feet. _Bucky was alive_. _He was out there. And he needed Steve._ These thoughts kept repeating in his head, trumping every unbelievable thing that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

The mind stone was enclosed in his fist, as he sprinted out of the room and towards the elevators. They were all supposed to meet up with Director Fury and Agent Hill for a debrief up in Stark’s apartment. At the elevator he paused. While everything in him screamed to move, to act, to go after Bucky, the rational, tactical part of him was telling himself to slow down. His doppelganger had told him a lot and he had to decide now what information to divulge to whom, who to trust and how to play this. Shield had freed him from the ice, had given him all he possessed since waking up in the 21st century. It was Peggy’s and Howard’s legacy. It was also the organisation that had been trying to harness the power of the Tesseract for weapons, just as Hydra had when he was fighting them. Even worse, Hydra was Shield, at least in part. No, he couldn’t trust Shield, not till he knew more. His doppelganger had told him Fury was an enemy of Hydra. Still, his deceit was fresh in Steve’s bones. He couldn’t risk it.

As the elevator went up, Manhattan was visible through the floor to ceiling windows. The destruction the invasion and their defence against it had caused, rendered this part of New York, that he had just started to get accustomed to, foreign in a whole new way. He could still see smoke rising from too many buildings, debris littering the streets, bodies, human and alien, crushed beneath it or draped on top of it, all equally still in their demise. The fight hadn’t been long, but it had been costly, nevertheless. If what his doppelganger had said was true, and it _had_ to be, they were not done fighting yet. Hell, he seemed to just be picking up where he had thought he’d been victorious in 1945. His hand clenched around the stone, his lips forming a tight line, as he ascended, the carnage in the streets disappearing out of clear sight.

With Fury and Shield out of the question, all he had were “the Avengers”. They had been forged out of fire, desperation and rage burning in all of them, but they were a team now. _His_ team. Whatever that meant. He hoped alien invasions would remain a rare occasion… And yet, they had proven themselves as dependable fighters. His doppelganger trusted them. Especially Agent Romanoff. Between Shield and the Avengers, the choice was clear cut. For the same reason, he’d have to trust Thor with the mind stone. Another realm was still too close to Hydra’s grasp for Steve’s comfort, but it was his best shot. He activated his earpiece. “Avengers?” He grimaced. He had never much loved his title, now he was just adding another to it. A moment later Stark was in his ear, asking if he was on his way up. He confirmed, inquiring if the debrief was still ongoing. “You bet your perky ass, Cap. Loki just disappeared with the Tesseract. He might turn up on our doorstep with another army next week!” _Loki_. Steve had to admit that the information about Bucky had superseded any worry he had had when being informed that Loki had made off with the Tesseract. Hydra and Bucky were somewhere here on earth, in his country even. What could he do about a god disappearing into the vastness of the universe?

As soon as the elevator doors opened on Starks’s private floor, he could hear a consortium of tense voices. The rest of the Avengers were standing in the middle of the open floor. Dr. Banner had reverted to human form and had been provided with clothing, but he was standing back, listening instead of arguing with the rest of them. Barton looked unbearably tense, unsurprising after hearing that the man who had controlled his mind had just escaped, while Agent Romanoff’s poker face was impeccable. Hill’s face gave away equally as much, but her eyes were still alight with fury. It reminded him that while they had saved New York, the Shield agents had lost someone dear to them. The consortium turned out to mostly consist of Stark, Thor and Fury.

“Just please explain to me how you can justify not putting all your man- and womanpower on the search for Loki? He could come back any second and next time the Security Council might not be so thoughtful as to shoot a nuke at us, so that I can hurl it at the alien army in deep space.” Fury was shaking his head. “And how do you imagine that we do that? He could be anywhere in the universe. As our thundery friend here tells us, we haven’t even been able to penetrate how big the universe is. I can’t just randomly shoot agents into space and hope for the best.” Stark crossed his arms over his chest and gave Fury a pointed look. “Well Director, not with that attitude you can’t. But I have always been more of a can-do-person, I guess.”

“I do not believe my brother will return to earth soon. It took more than just the Tesseract to open this portal and we have defeated his army. Loki is Asgard’s responsibility and we will search for him.”   

“Speaking of Asgard’s responsibility,” Steve stepped further into the room and opened his palm, showing the others the stone in his hand. “This is what was inside the sceptre. Loki… destroyed it but I was able to obtain the stone before he made off through a portal.” He’d never been good at lying. He doubted he could fool a room half filled with spies, but he had to. He expected his only saving grace would be that to them, he had no reason to lie.

Thor stepped towards him before Hill or Fury had been able to move to take the stone from him. Steve thanked his lucky stars. “I think I know what this is, but it cannot be.” His hand moved cautiously towards the stone. Thor gave Steve a questioning look and only took the stone from him, after Steve inclined his head in approval. Thor held the mind stone between his thumb and index finger, marvelling at the sight. “So… what is it?” Stark inquired, agitated.

“It’s called the mind stone and it is one of six stones representing all of existence. I have never seen one in its stone form. The Tesseract is an artefact that holds another, the space stone. I’ve only ever heard stories about the Aether. The other three have been lost to history.” Fury seemed to want to speak up, but Thor ignored him and continued. “You say it was inside Loki’s sceptre?” Steve nodded and Thor took a stuttering breath. “I guess that makes sense. It would explain the powers it held, but I would have never guessed this,” he held up the stone to the sunlight, yellow lights dancing around the room, “might have been what had bestowed it with its powers”

The silence that followed was tense. Steve felt unbelievably uncomfortable at the thought of anyone possessing this stone, but if someone had to, he’d rather Thor have it than Shield. Fury seemed to disagree, but it was Barton who spoke up first. “No person should ever have this kind of power over someone else.” His voice sounded raw and had the weight and cruel sincerity of personal experience.

“I agree with Legolas,” Stark said. “We should destroy it.” He moved with intent, likely attempting to get another suit, but Thor stopped him in his tracks. “It is neigh impossible to destroy an infinity stone. I know of no means to do so, and while your suit might be powerful, it will not scratch this gem. No, the only thing we can do is hide it, far away from earth and hope it will disappear into obscurity once more.” Stark seemed unhappy with that solution. Barton looked relieved at the thought of the stone being gone soon. Agent Romanoff had laid a hand on his shoulder after he’d spoken up.

“I see I have no say in the matter,” Fury muttered, disapproval in every syllable. Steve’s resolve to not confide in him grew with each one.

“You really don’t, Director. This is officially out of your jurisdiction. The Avengers will take care of it and for the record: The Avengers are no longer under Shield’s orders.” Everyone gaped at him. Even Stark seemed at a loss for words but was still the first to recover.

“Well that escalated quickly,” his eyes flitted uneasily between Fury and Steve. “You sure that’s the way you wanna go, Cap?” Fury’s lips were pursed, the look he gave Steve appraising. “You know as well as I do, that the director lied to us about the Tesseract. I don’t think any of us want to be beholden to Shield right now.” To Fury he added, “We will defend the earth, when it comes down to it and we’ll be happy to liaison with you, but we will not be a fancier version of one of your strike teams.” For a moment Fury seemed inclined to argue but quickly seemed to think better of it, crossing his hands behind his back.

“Well, Captain, I guess that finishes that debrief,” he smiled at Steve. It looked mostly real, but the appraisal hadn’t left his eye. Steve was taken aback for a second by Fury’s easy compliance. Then again, what was Fury to do? They’d just saved the city and Shield was literally unable to tell them what to do. Most of them weren’t even connected to Shield in any official way. That was when he caught Romanoff and Fury exchanging a look. She gave the slightest of nods, but he still saw it in the corner of his eye. He should have expected Fury not to give up so easily. Again, he reminded himself that his doppelganger had told him he could trust her. He really hoped he had been right.

Fury and Hill left right after. Fury spared them no word of goodbye, but Hill informed them that she’d be in contact with the team. With Coulson dead, it seemed to fall on her to be their connection to the organisation. When the both of them had disappeared and the elevator descended, all eyes fell on him again, all of them expectant or cautious, or a mixture of both.

He forced himself to give off his most charming smile. “So,” he stretched the vowel and clasped his hands, “Who’s up for Shawarma?”

 

In the streets clean-up seemed already to be starting. There were still people crying, looking shaken and shocked, but the first responders were doing their best to get out the wounded and the dead. Steve had had the resolve to follow Stark directly to the food place he’d mentioned but it took them barely ten steps before all of them had been brought to a halt.

Fire fighters were still dousing fires, police officers were talking to survivors, trying to help them find their missing loved ones or digging out people from the debris. There were doctors, nurses and paramedics, doing all they could from handing out blankets to trying to reanimate people. Steve stopped and shared a look with the other Avengers. The celebratory spirit that had been fading, had been extinguished for all of them. Barton moved away from the group without a word, walking to an officer and pointing out something he had spotted. Stark’s gaze followed him, looking guilty in a way that took Steve aback.

“I mean, I’m not saying we did this. But we also definitely didn’t _not_ do it,” he said, as his eyes clung to a paramedic stepping back from someone and shaking their head. Steve couldn’t help remembering him yelling _We are not soldiers,_ just hours earlier. Cautiously he put a hand onto Tony’s shoulder, who flinched but relaxed when he heard Steve’s voice.

“We stopped it from being worse than it is. You did your part, _Tony_. You saved them all.” He squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “But I think they wouldn’t mind us lending a hand. We can still get Shawarma later.”

Tony glanced at him. He wasn’t smiling but there was relief etched into the lines around his eyes. He nodded at Steve. “I’ll call Pepper. I know she wants to yell at me, and I haven’t had a moment yet to let her. I’ll also call in … reinforcements to help with…” he made a vague hand gesture at the general state of Manhattan. While Tony stepped away, all of them were quickly drawn into the rescue operations.

There was much to do. Thor and Steve were quickly recruited for their blatant strength, while Agents Romanoff and Barton used their agility to check out hard to reach places for stuck civilians. Tony had gotten another suit and was doing fifty things at once, cutting up debris, flying people out, scanning buildings for their structural integrity and so forth. Dr. Banner remained on the outskirts, knowing that the other guy would have the strength to move many things, but was too aware that the Hulk wasn’t exactly a fine precision tool needed for a clean-up like this. What they also found en masse, aside from hurt civilians and dead aliens, was weaponry. That worried Steve especially. He hoped they hadn’t just stopped Hydra from getting its hands on the Tesseract power, only to have them trying to use alien tech. He pointed out his worry to Tony who looked grim instantly and vowed to make another call to Pepper. Steve didn’t exactly know who this Pepper was, but from the way Tony was talking about her, it seemed she could handle anything and more.   

It was getting dark when Agent Romanoff found him. He was lugging debris, trying to help clear a way for civilians stuck on the ground floor of a building.

“We need a rest, Cap,” she told him, “I think it’s time to get dinner.” He didn’t ignore her, but he kept on trying to move the rubble. “There are people stuck in there, Agent Romanoff.” Tony had said there were twelve people. The building was structurally alright and wouldn’t collapse in on itself but falling debris from other buildings had blocked the front exits, while an internal collapse made it unsafe for the citizens to leave their position.

“New York’s finest can handle it. Some people might say, they’ve dealt with worse.” Steve stopped briefly and gave her a disapproving look. Her gaze didn’t waver, and she didn’t shrink away from him. “We’ve done our duty, Cap. Let these people do their work. Besides, it seemed you had something important to discuss with us.” She gave him a half smile. “You basically handed in my resignation for me and I want to know why.”

For a moment he wanted to rise to her provocation, tell her that she was free to leave if she desired but that would have been unfair. She was right after all. It had been more than the actions of today that had motivated his resignation from Shield and they needed to know.

_There are few people you can trust as much as Natasha._

Reluctantly, he let go of the slab of concrete he had been trying to get lose and quickly talked to the first responders with him. They gave him a slap on the shoulder and thanked him for his service, telling him they’d wait for machinery to move the rest, but he was free to go. If it hadn’t been for Romanoff waiting for him, he might have gone right back to the debris trying to move it _now_.

As he moved, Agent Romanoff fell into step with him. “The others are already on the way to the Shawarma place,” she informed him, and Steve nodded, biting his tongue. The silence afterwards felt uncomfortable, but when he glanced at her, she showed no sign of it being so. After walking another block and turning right, he took a deep breath and asked, “What exactly is Shawarma?”

He could feel her eyes on him but refused to look back, instead focusing straight ahead. “It’s an Arabic meat dish. You can eat it in a pita or just so, with salad or something. You have a lot of options and can see what you prefer.” She paused and he nodded. He could feel that his cheeks were lightly aflame. “You know Tony apparently hasn’t tried it either. It’s okay not to know stuff.” He nodded again, only feeling more stupid for some reason and walked on. They rounded another corner and he could see the shop they were heading for down the street now. They were getting close to the shop when Natasha spoke up again.

“When I came to America, I didn’t know a lot of things. Where I grew up… there was no street food or fantasy books or reality TV. Even when I… moved out I didn’t have the luxury of time to really find out about the world of the people I was living in. It wasn’t until Clint, until Shield that I had someone who I could ask questions about trivial things I didn’t know or understand. Clint’s made fun of that. But he’s never laughed at me. I won’t do that either.”

At that Steve did look at her. She still didn’t give away much but there was glint in her eyes and a humorous twitch to her mouth. “I appreciate that,” Steve said dryly, and the twitch became a half-smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are on week two and I am still doing weekly updates! Are ya'll proud? Well, I am.

The rest of the Avengers were already gathered around a table in the small shop. It seemed to have suffered only minimal damage, the glass windows broken but the interior mostly intact. It was apparently open and operating. Barton spotted them first, waving and mustering up an exhausted but genuine grin.

“About time,” Thor boasted, holding up a can of diet coke and toasting at them, “This meal that Stark has proposed is indeed a delight. I have not had a dish seasoned this well, since my time in the realm of New Mexico” Tony looked very smug about this.

“I am really glad I didn’t die before trying this. What do you think Dr. Banner?” Dr. Banner seemed to have been very occupied by his own plate and looked up, startled. “You know that Shawarma has been around in the United States for decades, right? This isn’t my first time eating this…” At Tony’s raised eyebrows he added, “It is very good Shawarma though and being the other guy… really builds up an appetite.” He finished lamely and turned back to his plate, ears reddening. Barton didn’t offer another word, just kept biting into one of the rolled-up bread… things he was holding in each hand.

“We’ll be right with you, boys,” Romanoff said and smiled at them all, “Come on, Cap, let’s see what’s on offer.”

 

With Agent Romanoff’s help and the owner’s recommendation he ended up with a pita bread, filled with Shawarma, salad and something which the owner had called Tahini sauce and which Romanoff endorsed wholeheartedly. Agent Romanoff’s bread was filled with something called falafel and after a charming smile, the owner had blushed and also added eggplant, even though that combination was not advertised. She winked at him, as the man turned to get their orders ready.

Steve settled down cautiously at the table, both intrigued by the smell, as well as apprehensive about the experience. Before the ice he’d rarely been unsure of himself. He’d never been scared of speaking publicly, talking to strangers or getting into a situation he knew nothing about. He’d known who he was and everything else had moved into place around him, in a way. It wasn’t like that anymore. In this new century he was at a constant disadvantage, knowing nothing about most things, while most people seemed to think they knew all there was to know about him. It made him feel like being examined most of the time. Like everyone was teasing an old show animal, expecting it to fail at the task, and delighting both when it did and when it didn’t. Romanoff nudged his shoulder with a can of soda, and he took it with an appreciative smile. He opened the can, giving himself another moment before attempting to eat the food without making a fool of himself. He tried to observe how the others ate without being obvious. Taking a sip of the coke, he caught Romanoff’s eye, who had sat down next to him. The small half smile was back. With a deliberate motion, she took the pita into both her hands and took a bite. Steve ducked his head, hiding his grin and copied her move.

They all ate in silence for a while, exhaustion, mental and physical, catching up with them. It was companionable and calm, the food giving them an excuse not to have to say anything at all. Outside, the day was turning into night, but they could still hear first responders doing their work, putting up lights so as to not be stopped for even the couple of hours of darkness that could mean life or death for some of the still missing.

Barton had just sat down with another plate, giving half of his food to Thor who had been eyeing it longingly, when Tony spoke up for the first time since Steve and Romanoff had entered the shop.

“So, Cap. As much as I am relishing this team get-together – highly enjoyable, we should make this a thing – I am very curious why you just had us leave Shield? I mean I am all for it, I have less faith in them being on the up and up with us than I have in Fury having 20/20 vision, but I thought you were ride or die with them. I mean, they partially only exist thanks to you. You were the original _Shield_. Literally.”

Steve swallowed heavily at that. Peggy and Howard having found Shield had been a big part of why he had stayed with them, next to him having no other connection in this century. This was Peggy’s legacy; it had been her attempt to make the world a better place. What a cruel twist of fate.

“I am not,” he simply answered, trying to figure out how to best explain what he had learned and how he had learned it.

“But you wouldn’t have left, if you didn’t have a good reason to,” Romanoff threw in. She was still comfortably leaned back in her chair, but Steve had no doubt about her alertness.

“And Fury’s weapons program isn’t reason enough?” Steve sat up straight, his voice sharper than intended but not sorry about his tone either. For that alone it would have been right to leave Shield immediately.

“It is understandable that Shield wants to be able to defend itself and the people it protects from the new threats it faces. I cannot help but think that the battle today might have gone easier, might have been less destructive if it hadn’t been the Other Guy jumping through skyscrapers, but Shield agents with these weapons fighting off the alien army that came because of a feud between extra-terrestrial godlike creatures.” Banner’s voice was calm, his gaze fixed on Agent Romanoff, only momentarily straying to Thor.

“Well, I have to agree with Capsicle here. I would not trust Shield to limit their use of these weapons to things and people from _out_ of this world,” Tony chimed in, “Would you disagree, Miss Rushmore?” For a second Steve wondered if this was another 21st century reference that had gone over his head, but when Romanoff rolled her eyes and Tony grinned, he assumed it was something personal.

“You might be projecting, Stark,” Barton now accused, “Shield is there to protect people. They are not above bending the rules if necessary but it’s always for the greater good. And I’d say Nat and I are pretty glad that they are more into the bending rules part than being sticklers. What they do they do for a reason. Tends to be a good one.”

Tony seemed to be inclined to retort something inappropriate and Steve saw the whole conversation going downhill from there.

“Tony is right,” he said loudly, successfully shutting down the debate that was unfolding at the table, “I did have more reasons than just the weapons they were researching. It… I…,” he sighed, “it’s complicated,” he finished lamely. The Avengers were looking at him with varying degrees of confusion, incredulity and trepidation. It was Natasha’s quiet “You need to do better than that,” which got Steve back on track.

“Okay. Listen to me,” Tony opened his mouth but the intensity in Steve’s eyes stopped him from speaking, “First of all I wanna assure you that everything I am about to tell you can be backed up and verified by the tower’s security footage. I know you’ll have questions and I’ll answer them, but you need to listen to me first.” He waited for them to nod before he continued. “Hydra has been infiltrating Shield since it’s foundation. It has been growing and thriving in secret inside the organisation for decades, directing it where it needs it to go, influencing events and seeding chaos and destruction. I know this because someone told me when I was going after the thief of the sceptre. Only the thief wasn’t Loki. It was me. But not me. A me that travelled back through time from 2023 because they needed the mind stone to stop something horrible in their time. I fought them, thinking I was fighting Loki in disguise but…” The emotions Steve had tried to bury when stepping into the elevator hours earlier were threatening to well up again: elation, worry and guilt, but Steve bit his tongue and forced them back down again; this wasn’t the time. “But he told me that Bucky was alive, and he also had my compass with Peggy’s photo. Loki couldn’t have known about either of these things and… it distracted me. Long enough for him to get the upper hand. When I came to, he was there still, or again, I guess. He gave me back the stone, instead of the sceptre. He told me about something called the Infinity Stones and how we needed to protect them from someone trying to bring them all together. And he told me how he found out about Hydra. In 2014. He told me about Bucky. He told me about the Winter Solider. What they have done to him, what they are doing to him. We need to stop them. I need to _save_ him.”

For a moment the silence after his speech was deafening. All of their expressions had given away to shock, and he hoped it wasn’t because they believed he had lost his marbles after being attacked by an alien army. When they started to barrage him with questions no one waited for the other to go first.

“Jarvis, please tell me how many readings of Captain Roger’s vital signs you picked up after Loki’s disappearance,” Tony told his watch, eyes as big as saucers.

“James Buchanan Barnes is alive, too?” Banner chocked out, his eyes just as big as Tony’s.

“Who is trying to gather the stones, Captain, you need to tell me now!” Thor’s voice was frantic, one hand calling for his hammer, while the other had protectively gone to the pouch at his hip, holding the mind stone.

Barton meanwhile was just cursing loudly, about what exactly Steve was unclear, while Agent Romanoff’s lips had formed the words _Winter Soldier_ , her eyes moving as if she was working out something too horrible to believe.

“My doppelganger didn’t give me a name but apparently Loki was working with or for him. That’s how he got the sceptre. Loki might have returned to them, or he might not have, scared now that he’s lost the mind stone. All that I was told is that if anyone ever managed to gather them all, you should aim for the head.” Thor looked thoughtful at that, then he stood up.

“I have to return to Asgard immediately. The Allfather needs to hear about this and about Loki. We were able to find him on earth and I am sure we will find him wherever he has turned to now. But the news you bring me is concerning. Odin will know what to do, might even know who would be possessed by the insanity to want to gather a power as inordinate as that of the stones.” His gaze drifted around the table before landing on Steve again. “I am sorry to not be able to help you in your quest to save your friend, but the universe hangs in the balance. I will inform you all once I have news to share and if you need me, I will hear of it. Farewell Avengers.” Hammer in hand Thor left the shop. He turned around once more, waving his hammer, before swinging it and lifting off into the air.

“Well, that was sudden,” Tony commented drily, “Anyone else wanna leave to do something more important than dealing with one of the most powerful covert agencies being run by Nazis?” No one got up and Tony continued. “Good, because Jarvis has just informed me that at some point today there were three different Steve Rogers personas in the tower at the same time. He has also provided me with footage of you getting your ass beat by yourself, Captain, and then being carried around by the third you. It is freaky as fuck and it excites me to no end that this will be made possible within my lifetime. And yes, I know it’s _my_ lifetime because apparently another me deemed it totally fine to give me a fucking heart attack. Trying not to take _that_ personal.” Turning to Dr. Banner he added, “Another you was around too apparently. No second version of our pet assassins though, which, interesting…”

“Was there any indication of Hydra in the files you uncovered?” Agent Romanoff interrupted Tony’s rambling. He shook his head.

“Not as far as I’ve seen but Shield didn’t hide the weapons program very well. Which makes me think… how do we know you two aren’t Hydra?” Barton looked incredulous at that, while Romanoff seemed to try to formulate a persuasive argument. Steve interjected quickly.

“I know they are not. Neither are Hill or Fury. I don’t trust them right now for other reasons. Sitwell, Alexander Pierce and some of the strike teams are though. I think it’s best if we do this ourselves, but your affiliation with Shield might come in handy, if you are with me in dismantling it. Shield might end up collateral damage, but I’d rather destroy Shield than have Hydra surviving.”

“Was Coulson…?” Hawkeye asked tentatively, but his voice drifted off before he could form the whole question, looking as if he had just desecrated a holy site. Romanoff touched his knee. He placed his hand on top of hers.

“No, he wasn’t,” Steve reassured them. The relief was evident in both their faces, if more pronounced in Barton’s.

“Coulson offered me a second chance when I needed it most. If he was still alive, he’d die of heartbreak, knowing there was any Hydra in Shield. He’d have followed you anywhere, Cap. And so will I.” Agent Baron stuck out his arm, offering him his balled up fist. Thankful that he’d already seen people greeting each other this way, Steve gave Barton a fist bump and earned himself a solemn nod. “We’re a package deal,” Romanoff added, absentmindedly touching the arrow adorning her throat. Steve had a feeling that wasn’t the whole story. He also was sure that questioning her intentions in front of an audience would get him nowhere.

“I honestly don’t know how I could help dismantling a secret agency inside a secret agency. That sounds like spy work and insurgency. I am not someone for precision work.” Banner looked forlorn if not entirely unhappy about being of no use.

“Hold your horses, Dr. Banner,” Tony clapped his hands, “I just had a genius idea. The Avengers need a home. A base of operations, for support, weapons, intel and the like and thanks to Thor’s dear brother’s work today, Stark Tower needs serious remodelling. The story basically writes itself.” Tony looked exited, like he was already ordering couch cushions and hiring support staff, but the others around the table glanced doubtfully at each other and him in return.

“Again, Mr. Stark, that sounds like a highly stressful environment…”

“Nonsense! I can build you anything you like! You all get a whole floor of course. Want a zen garden, Dr. Banner? Done. A Hulk containment, just in case? Already got the schematics in my head and don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t get a kick out of my labs. You know you’re already imagining all the great toys and things I have up in there.” Banner ducked his head which Tony seemed to count as a win, so he turned to Steve. “And you: the wind tells me you’re living in a Shield safe house. I am not saying they’ll kick Captain America out, but I also doubt you want to live in a place that you can count on Hydra having placed all their sneaky little gadgets in.” Steve blanched at the thought. He’d presumed on some level that there was surveillance on him, but the thought of Hydra having seen him in his most private moments since his return from the ice, made him feel vulnerable and violated in a way unfamiliar to him. Tony seemed unaware of his momentary introspection. “And I doubt you relish the thought of going house-hunting in New York City. I know you’ve been to war, Cap, but you haven’t tried to find a two bedroom in Brooklyn yet and I’d say count your blessings for that.”

“I see your point,” Steve admitted, trying not to grit his teeth. He hoped he wasn’t swapping one kind of surveillance for another. If anything, Tony seemed unable to keep anything to himself, so at least it wouldn’t be secret. Tony gave him a wide grin. “And you two…” he paused, his hand going to his chin, stroking his goatee, “I actually have no idea where you live. Do spy-assassins have lavish mansions somewhere upstate? Did you wrestle an apartment complex away from the Russian mob?” He looked Barton up and down, “Don’t tell me you have a secret family stashed away somewhere on a farm in a flyover state or something else cliché? Or does Shield just keep you in barracks or maybe just stocks you in the vents?”

“Yes,” is all Hawkeye said to that. Romanoff broke out into the first real grin Steve had seen but she schooled her features into that noncommittal smile quickly. Tony was squinting at them, trying to figure it out. “Anyway,” he finally landed on, “I am sure I can still surprise and impress you with what the tower, _Avengers Tower_ , might offer you.”

“It’s always good to have another option,” Agent Romanoff agreed smoothly. “Yes,” Barton repeated, still amused by his own joke.

“Then it’s decided!” Tony expelled, “I’ll get right on it and for the time being you can just move into some of the guest apartments. It’s a big tower and Loki just broke like 7% percent of it, though I loved these 7% especially.” With a lavish gesture Tony raised his can of soda. “To Avengers Tower. May it stand tall and proud as a beacon of hope to all of New York and not inadvertently invite chaos and bad guys and gals. Cheers!”


	3. Chapter 3

The apartment that Tony showed him later that night was sleek and impersonal. It was massive. Bigger than the place that Shield had provided him with, but it only served to make him feel small and out of place. “It has all the amenities you could dream of, Cap,” Tony had told him when he’d showed him around. “Through there is the master bedroom with an en-suite bathroom, stocked with everything you need. I do recommend the assortment of bubble baths. Really helps with the sore spots, too.” He’d winked at that. “There are another two bedrooms, though I guess you won’t need these for now.” He’d pointed down a hallway. “There’s also an office and a small gym, but of course you’re also welcome to use the bigger one a couple floors down.” Tony had turned and smirked at him. “And I guess I don’t have to explain the big shiny square mounted to the wall or the chrome things standing on the counter. You have used a dishwasher before, right?” Steve had wanted to strangle him then and there. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Stark.” The inventor’s smirk had only widened. “If you were, I wouldn’t have asked. New generation’s basically born with a smartphone in their chubby grabby hands. You on the other hand…”

Steve had just turned away and stalked towards the master bedroom. He knew his mother would have chided him for being rude towards his host, who he knew was being generous, but he could feel his temper rising and since he’d actually become strong enough to win a fight, he’d had to take Bucky’s constant admonishments to pick his fights, if for an entirely different reason than risking _his_ wellbeing.

“Ah come on, Cap, don’t be so prissy,” Tony was yelling after him and Steve closed his eyes to stop himself from turning around. He allowed himself to throw the door closed with a gratifying loud noise, stripping off the uniform on his way to the shower.

It was a relief to step into the big walk in shower and let the warm water caress his skin and loosen the aches in his body. The cuts and bruises from the battle were already disappearing, only showing themselves as faint yellow blotches and small rosy lines adorning his skin, which would be gone after a good night’s rest. While more durable than a regular human being, the tension and exhaustion sat deeper than even muscle and bone.   

He put his forearms against the shower wall and let his body sack forward, letting out a deep breath as his shoulders slowly let go of his rigid military posture, his spin curving and relaxing. He couldn’t deny that the showers and general facilities in the modern day were more amiable than in his day. There was no more schlepping buckets of water to the tub in his and Bucky’s drafty apartment or the horrible water pressure of the showers at base camp or the sudden bouts of cold water that had made showering in the hotels on his USO tour an adventure in itself. Especially now he couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d showered before going into the ice.

After losing Bucky, he’d functioned on autopilot. They’d apprehended Zola. Taken him back to the extraction point and back to London. In that moment Steve had cared little about whatever Zola might have had to say about Schmidt or anything else for that matter. There had only been a chill deep inside his chest. A shock that had lain heavy on his heart, lungs and mind, which was stifling the dawning realisation that James Buchanan Barnes was no more. That there was a world now that existed while Bucky did not. The thought had been too overwhelming to entertain and yet it made itself known by time passing and Bucky remaining gone.

He’d gone to the room he’d been assigned to. Dropped shield and helmet, stripped out of the uniform and taken a shower, but the lukewarm water had done nothing to heat him up, as blood and grime had disappeared down the drain. In the end, he had punched a hole into the tiled wall unable to stop himself before he had collapsed onto the floor, his tears indistinguishable from the water drumming onto his head. He’d remained there long after the water had started to run cold.

He wasn’t breaking down now, not as he had then at least. Because despite everything he’d gone through today and the horrid news he’d received, what stood out and had managed to kindle a little flame (in his chest )that finally was melting the ice that had been filling his lungs and heart since before crashing into permafrost, was the incessant knowledge that _Bucky was alive_. Bucky was alive and Steve would save him. Just as they’d always saved each other until the one time Steve had failed. Never again.

* * *

Steve took his time in the shower, concentrating on the warmth and pressure, distracting himself from the pain by recapping the day’s events in his head and trying to come up with his best strategy forward. There hadn’t been much talk of a concrete plan at their little dinner, but at least he was confident that his team was on his side and was going to help him. How remained to be seen but he was too aware of how uninformed he still was about the intricacies of the modern world to believe he’d be able to help Bucky without allies. Tony seemed to be motivated by his distrust of Shield and his newly found desire to make this team work, which flowed like an undercurrent with every word and action no matter how abrasive. Banner seemed to be on the same page as Stark when it came to Shield, while wanting to stay out of any conflict. Steve could understand that and still, there might come a time where precision work wasn’t what was called for. Banner’s reaction to learning that Bucky was alive, had Steve believing he’d fight if he was needed. Barton had made the most personal and obvious pledge to him and Steve trusted in that. From what he’d gotten to know of Agent Coulson, he had been an upstanding man who had believed in the idea of Captain America. Steve Rogers wasn’t one and the same with Captain America, but his actions and convictions had done more to fill the mantle with life and legacy, than any news reel or propaganda poster ever had. Or at least Steve hoped so. He’d have to trust that Agent Coulson’s faith in Barton hadn’t been misplaced and that he could rely on him. His biggest question mark was Agent Romanoff. His doppelganger had told him to trust in her, and yet she seemed the least inclined to be open with him and openness and honesty were the two things he’d most relied on to build trust and loyalty.

With only a towel slung around his waist, Steve made his way back to the master bedroom. He gathered up his torn uniform and dumped it in the laundry basket. If he was being honest with himself, he’d rather have dumped it in the trash. It looked more like his old stage outfit than he was comfortable with, making him feel like the joke of a soldier that he had been.

With no clothes to wear, he contemplated just sliding under the covers stark naked, but thirst drove him back to the living and kitchen area. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights, the brightness of the city lights coming in through the big windows enough for his superhuman vision. There was no more smoke rising from the towers of Manhattan, and in the distance dawn was crawling towards them, announcing the first day of a new world. A world post alien invasion. A world fundamentally different than it had been the day before.

Steve found glasses in one of the cupboards and filled one at the sink. Leaning against the fridge and drinking from his glass he noticed two things: 1. There was a pile of clothes and a note on the breakfast island and 2. a slender figure was sitting on the back of one of the couches, arms loose at their sides and seemingly patiently waiting for him to notice them. There was no question about who it was.

Quickly but not hurriedly, Steve finished his drink and placed the empty glass in the sink. Then he went to check out the clothes. It was just a couple of pairs of sweats, a few t-shirts, some socks and underwear. The note was from Tony, apologising in his roundabout way for insulting him earlier, offering the clothes as an olive branch and informing him that his belongings would be collected from the Shield safehouse and delivered to him later that day. Steve smiled, putting the note down. He picked up a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, forgoing underwear and socks and changed into them, aware that the counter was hiding his body from view from the waist down. Fully dressed, he placed his towel on the back of a chair and looked straight at his intruder.

“Were you testing how long it would take me to notice you were there?” Steve asked in lieu of a greeting. The Black Widow made no move to change her position. It was a test of will; that he was sure of. She’d tried to catch him off guard, see if she could unnerve him, while also testing his awareness and ability. How he conducted himself then would determine their relationship and her opinion of him, possibly for good.

 “Maybe.” Her voice was calm, bordering on disinterested. Steve could make out nothing of her expression, hidden as she was in the shadows.

“Did I pass then?”

“Depends.”  

“On what?”

“Various things.” Steve took a steadying breath. He was becoming exceedingly annoyed by her monosyllabic answers.

“Such as?” She shifted, her arms crossing over her chest.

“Such as who might be waiting for you. If I caught you by surprise, I’d give myself a solid chance at taking you down. If Clint was hiding in the shadows, and you were unaware, he’d put a bullet in your neck or forehead before you could duck. The Soldier could succeed at either. What gives me pause is that he is stronger than me, as good a marksman as Clint and probably just as stealthy as either of us. I do not like your chances, if you are heedless enough to show me your back like that, when I wasn’t even trying.”

Steve worked hard to school his features. He hadn’t been dressed down like that by anyone since before rescuing hundreds of men in Azzano. Tony had tried to talk down to him but unlike his digs, the Widow had a point. More importantly though, she was talking about Bucky.

“What do you know about Bucky?” She paused for a second, before she finally stepped into the dim light filtering in from the city. Walking towards him, she lifted her shirt over her head. She was wearing a sports bra beneath her cotton shirt, which she had dropped to the floor. Steve was resolutely looking at her face, his nails digging into his hands, as he fought the instinct to move back and turn away, in order to give her some privacy. He was still getting used to the casual ways in which men and women were now able to be severely undressed in various situations that were neither strictly private nor the beach.

She stopped right on the other side of the counter. “Do you see this, Captain?” She pointed at her left hip bone, where he could see a rubbery scar, the size of his thumb. Or the size of a bullet. “2009. I was getting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somewhere outside Odessa, my tires got shot out. We went right off a cliff, I got us out. But he was waiting for us. I was covering my charge, when the Winter Soldier shot him. Right through me.” Her expression gave away nothing, but Steve knew when someone was baiting him.

“Bucky didn’t kill you then,” was what Steve took away from the story. Agent Romanoff’s eyes narrowed.

“He didn’t come to finish the job. I still nearly bled out. I was lucky to have back up. My scientist? Not that lucky.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve inclined his head in sincerity.

“The Soldier is a ghost story. He has an impossible number of confirmed kills, going back to the late 1950s. There are gaps though. Sometimes years without a sighting or a story.  I always thought it was just a title. Passed down from one extraordinary assassin to the next. But I guess, it’s always been your friend then.” Steve’s heart was pounding hard. While a moment ago he’d had to control himself to keep looking at her, now he was trying hard to restrain himself from grabbing her and demanding she’d tell him all there was to know.

“Zola experimented on Bucky while he was captured in Azzano. He never spoke about it, but Zola was working on a version of the serum. If he gave that to Bucky, it explains how he survived the fall and if he is like me now, they could…”

“Freeze him,” Romanoff nodded, “They of course didn’t know that you were surviving in the ice. They tried it anyway.” Steve swallowed heavily. From what his doppelganger had told him, compared to everything else, that was one of their lesser crimes against Bucky.

Her voice was softer when she spoke again. “You know that the Winter Soldier isn’t the friend you lost, right? Even if he once was, he’s been in their clutches for nearly seventy years. He might not know you anymore. He might not even know himself anymore. If Hydra sends him to kill you, he might not give you a chance to save him.” Steve swallowed heavily, not daring to entertain this line of thought. His doppelganger had saved his Bucky. The possibility of it was all he needed to succeed.

“They’ve tortured and brainwashed him. He is a victim of Hydra and we will treat him as such.” His voice was as unrelenting as steel.

“As I said: he might not give you a chance.” Steve spotted a hint of sadness in the furrow of her brow, and it softened his temper.

“What did you do, when you learned that Barton was being mind-controlled? Would you have let anything, or anyone, stop you from bringing him back? From saving him?” Romanoff’s eyes widened for a second, but she recovered quickly, giving him her little half smirk.

“I knocked him out cold and then strapped him to a cot. I wasn’t pulling my punches.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll try that one first then. I trust you.” It wasn’t exactly true, but he said it with conviction, taking a leap of faith. It certainly caught her by surprise. Her smirk froze in place, as her eyes darted over his face, like she was trying to catch a lie in the lines on his forehead, or the turn of his upper lip.

“Why?” she finally demanded.

“Because my doppelganger did,” Steve admitted, “Because I believe in your devotion to Barton and therefore think ya might understand, better than anyone maybe, where I am coming from. And I trust that you want to do what is right. I don’t know why you joined Shield when you did, but you were one of six people to put yourself between New York and an alien army, without a metal suit, a super serum or the strength of a god. You are a brave woman, Agent Romanoff, and I believe you despise organisations like Hydra as much as I do.”

“Shield is my home,” Natasha whispered, her voice carrying through the silence of the dark apartment. “I thought I was finally one of the good guys. But I guess I can’t tell the difference anymore.” Steve considered her and then shook his head vehemently.

“Not every villain is a red monster or a crazy god. Some monsters smile at you and hold speeches about world peace. Being deceived isn’t the same as being unable to tell right from wrong. You had faith. You trusted. These aren’t bad things, as long as we do them with our eyes wide open, and our own convictions in mind.” She took a moment to mull that over. Steve let her be. So far, he knew precious little about this woman, but something told him she might know the feeling of being lost and disconnected, the way he had been feeling until hearing about Bucky. A feeling he still hadn’t totally lost.

“Shield might not come out on the other side.” She crossed her arms over her chest, squeezing slightly, as if she were hugging herself. Steve nodded.

“Is that a problem for you?” She took a moment to consider. Steve supposed that counted for something.

“I guess I’ll have to start over until I get it right,” she finally told him in a quiet voice. Stepping back, she bent down to get her shirt. To her the conversation was evidently over. Steve had more to ask though.

“Are you going to tell Fury about any of this?” She pulled her shirt back on, before glancing back at him over her shoulder.

“I will tell him a version of the events of today,” A beat, that had Steve’s heart thundering with anxiety. “But I will keep your secrets, Rogers.” She was nearly at the door when Steve called out to her.

“Natasha,” it was the first time he used her first name and it stopped her in her tracks, “I… thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, _Steve_.” She glanced back at him once more and Steve gave her a genuine smile, which she answered in kind. She was gone a second later, sliding silently into the shadows and out of his apartment.

Steve took a steadying breath. His heart slowly settled down thanks to Natasha’s semi-reassurance.  With a last glance at the shadows and the door, Steve went to bed.

Sleep wouldn’t come though. As he settled under the covers, his thoughts instantly went back to Bucky. He mulled over every detail he’d heard from his doppelganger and Natasha, moving between determination to find his friend and fear in what state he might find him in. Not that it mattered really. It didn’t change anything after all. And still, his worried mind conjured up visions of Bucky, strapped to a table, experimented on, cut into, tortured, made to forget first Steve and then himself. The pictures in his mind swam together: memories of finding Bucky in Azzano with images that his doppelganger had described to him.

Rest seemed impossible to come by, as Bucky’s fearful screams consumed his thoughts, his closed eyes offering no reprieve from the visions of horror. But even his body was only made to endure so much, and it had taken some serious injury. The sun was already up, when exhaustion drew Steve under into a fitful sleep, full of glassy blue eyes that were beckoning him towards them. Steve twisted and turned, tried to speed up and reach out, but no matter how hard he tried, he never seemed to succeed. Instead Bucky fell through his grasp. Time and time again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has only been semi-beta'd yet but even if I update this, nothing major will change.

The sensation of falling, followed by the shock of hitting the floor right next to his bed, tore Steve from his sleep. He was tense, his body curled into itself, as remnants of his nightmare slowly faded, leaving fog and slight disorientation behind. Panting heavily, he brushed his hair away from his forehead, realising that he was drenched in sweat. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and made an effort to relax his jaw. It hurt. He must have been clenching it for a good while.

His sheets were tangled around his legs, an indication that he had been twisting and turning long before rolling out of bed altogether. Steve couldn’t say he was shocked by any of it. He hadn’t slept much or well since waking up in this century. Not that he had been sleeping much during the war. But usually he had slept as well as circumstances had allowed, trusting that his troops were keeping watch and keeping him safe, just as he did for them.

Steve took another deep breath, still trying to slow his heart down to its normal pace, and gingerly sat up. His arms slung around his knees, he looked out of the window. The sun was already high in the sky. It must have been after noon already. For a good minute he contemplated checking out the gym Tony had mentioned, where he could try to combat the memories of last night’s dream by working his way through a couple of punching bags. The faint sound of porcelain bursting on tiles had him freeze and turn his head towards the closed door. When it was followed by loud cursing, he relaxed minimally.

With a huff he finally got off the floor, discarded his sheets on the bed and decided to take a shower before facing his unannounced guests. As much as he sometimes loathed the pristine image of Captain America, there were moments when he was glad that he was able to put it on. And right then he was not ready to show his new teammates anything but pristine.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Steve walked out of his bedroom, freshly showered and shaved. Still without any of his own possessions, he wore a fresh t-shirt and sweats, his feet bare. He looked relaxed and in control. Or at least he hoped that was what he was projecting when he entered his living room-kitchen area to find Natasha sitting at the breakfast counter, mug in hand, while Barton stood at the stove, flipping pancakes. They landed perfectly on a growing stack of the deliciously smelling breakfast food.

“Don’t you have your own apartment?” Steve asked, trying to sound stern. If he was honest with himself, something had become stuck in his throat at this simple scene of domesticity happening in what was now his living quarters. Barton looked up and grinned at him, pouring more batter into the pan.

“We’re just down the hall,” he informed Steve. “We?” Steve’s eyebrows went up slightly. He had been wondering about the nature of the intimacy between the two spies.  

“Yeah,” Clint said. With a slight but controlled motion of his wrist, he flipped the pancake high and caught it again to cook the other side.

“So, are you two a… thing?” Steve tried, when neither of them seemed inclined to elaborate. The two spies exchanged a look. It was Natasha who answered.

“In our way, yes. Why?” Steve shrugged. “Just making conversation here.” He pointed at her cup. “More where that came from?” She nodded, and Steve made his way to the coffee machine. “There’s all kinds of milk in the fridge,” she informed him, “Normal, low-fat. Even almond and soy. Sugar’s right here.”

“One cup of Nat’s coffee could probably give you diabetes.” Barton shot him a cheeky grin over his shoulder and Steve couldn’t help the little smile that tugged at his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He poured himself a cup and went for the fridge. Opening the fridge doors, he was suddenly confronted with a choice he hadn’t faced before.

“What exactly are soy and almond milk and why would you want low-fat milk in the first place?,” he inquired from no one in particular. Clint snorted.

“People believed that their food was too high in fats, so they tried to reduce it in everything,” Natasha explained, “I don’t think you need to worry about your diet though, Steve. Almond and soymilk do not contain dairy and are hence not really milk. Real handy for people wo can’t or won’t consume dairy.”

Steve made a sound in acknowledgement, his hand hovering between whole and almond. “That would have come in handy back in the day,” he confessed, “I used to get real bad stomach aches from drinking milk. Not that we could afford it often, but it was supposed to be real good for you. Never really felt like a treat to me.” He grabbed the almond milk and poured some in his coffee. When he tried it, it didn’t taste like anything he’d had before. He liked it.

Steve turned back to his fellow Avengers and leaned against the counter behind him, slowly sipping his coffee. “So, what brings you two to my apartment? I think it’s fair to assume that Tony didn’t forget to put a kitchen into yours.”

The two spies exchanged another look, before Natasha answered him.

“I talked with Director Fury this morning. He’s not happy but he doesn’t suspect anything yet about your reasoning. He’s mostly assigned me to assess how quote on quote ‘stable’ you are. Shield doesn’t think you’re having secrets. But they are concerned that you might be on the edge of a mental break and acting recklessly.” Steve couldn’t help but smile grimly at that. This wasn’t, after all, the first time someone had accused him of being reckless. If they assumed that any of this indicated a change in his character, it just showed how little they knew him. Beyond that, his decision to leave Shield might have been sudden, but it hadn’t been reckless.

“Do you share their fears?”

“Leaving Shield, no matter the circumstances, feels rather rash. There is an advantage to being part of the organisation you want to take down.” Steve had to acquiesce, refilling his coffee cup before he explained himself.

“I agree. But I am not a spy, I’m a solider. I wasn’t made for hiding my motives and playing along. If Alexander Pierce stepped through these doors right this second, I would crush his skull for the role that he’s been playing. Staying within Shield was never an option for me. Not morally, but even less strategically. I am glad that you two are still part of Shield though. We need the access. We need to find out who works for Hydra, how they communicate, how they operate and what they are planning. I need to find Bucky but I…” Steve bit his tongue not wanting to say it but knowing he had to, “I, _we,_ need to make sure that Hydra is dismantled first and foremost. Bucky is my number one priority, but he isn’t the Avengers’ and as the leader of the Avengers, my duty comes first.”

Barton had turned off the stove during Steve’s little speech. Now both spies’ full attention was on him, two watchful observant gazes trained on him, trying to find a lie, a kernel of dishonesty or the shadow of doubt in his words or in his posture. Steve looked both of them square in the eyes, not squirming under their scrutiny.

“Stopping Hydra is our main goal, but we won’t treat your friend’s well-being as an afterthought or second tier priority. We can do both.” Barton’s reassurance was unexpected, and something loosened in Steve’s chest. He couldn’t help but give Barton a genuinely relieved big smile, which seemed to take the archer just as much aback as his words had Steve.

“Thank you, Barton. I appreciate that.” Barton shot him a little smile, before grabbing the two huge plates stacked full of pancakes and carrying them over to the dining table.

“Okay so brunch and strategy. Because we do need both.” Natasha apparently took that as her cue to get more plates and cutlery. It was only when Steve noticed they were only setting the table for three that he furrowed his brow.

“Aren’t Tony and Dr. Banner joining us?” The spies halted what they were doing and shared a tiny look. “We hadn’t considered that,” Natasha admitted. Steve shook his head.

“We are a team and we’re doing this together. It’s okay to wanna confide in someone but this is something we all need to discuss.”

Natasha nodded while Barton muttered something akin to ‘I guess I’ll make more pancakes then’ and headed back to the stove.

Steve glanced at the ceiling cautiously. “Jarvis?” Tony had explained the AI that _lived_ within the tower to him when he’d shown him the flat and had demonstrated how to operate it. Using tech that was basically invisible was incomprehensible to Steve. He’d never felt the need to understand _how_ tech worked, only how to use it. Just addressing thin air made him feel stupid anyway, even though ‘thin air’ was answering.

“Yes, Captain?” Jarvis cool, composed voice seemed to come from nowhere in particular, while sounding close and not overly loud at the same time.

“Could you please ask Tony and Dr. Banner to come to my apartment for a strategic meeting.” He glanced at Barton who has just mixing up more pancake batter. “There’ll be pancakes.”

“Yes, of course.” During the AI’s brief pause, Steve just stood around, desperately longing for a telephone receiver, to at least have something to hold that would signal that he wasn’t just glued to this particular spot of hardwood floor like a moron. Natasha meanwhile was setting the table for two more people. Their eyes met as she settled down in one of the seats, sugary coffee in hand. Her little half smile reappeared. “You know Steve, if Tony is joining us, we could probably do with more coffee.” Grateful Steve took the cue and busied himself with the coffee machine.

“Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner will arrive shortly,” Jarvis announced just as Steve was putting a new pot of coffee on the table.  

 

Tony arrived as he always did: loudly and commanding all of the available attention. Steve found it admirable how Barton and Natasha seemed immune to the display, while Tony seemed equally unfazed by their nonreaction. Steve was unable to figure out, how neither of them came across as hostile during this one-sided interaction. Tony went right for the coffee before flopping down next to Steve. Dr. Banner entered with him, but he was like a cool evening breeze to Tony’s overwhelming summer heat. He gave Barton a friendly, if awkward wave hello, before settling down next to Tony, declining the coffee Natasha offered.

“I know there should be tea around the kitchen, Doc,” Tony informed him and instantly got up to rummage through one of the cabinets before Dr. Banner could utter a word. He shot Steve and Natasha a little smile, glancing up from where he was examining his empty plate. “He means well,” he murmured, and Steve couldn’t help but agree. Natasha rolled her eyes but got up and put on the kettle.

It took another ten minutes of rummaging, flipping pancakes and finding just the right blend of tea leaves, before all of the Avengers were settled down around Steve’s dining table. Conversations had been struck up in the meantime and now Steve’s new team was sitting down for brunch talking about mostly non-crisis related things. Mostly. Tony was recounting his conversation with Pepper to Natasha, who was openly teasing him about getting a dressing down for saving Manhattan. Barton was meanwhile quizzing Banner about his time on the run and what had been his favourite foods when living in Brazil. From Banner’s tone, Steve assumed that the scientist was quite unaccustomed to conversations taking this particular turn when coming to his time as a man on the run from the American military. Steve tucked into the pancakes, letting the idle chatter pass him by and enjoying both the company and the food. He’d never gotten the opportunity to become much of a cook before the war and hadn’t felt inclined to since, instead becoming a frequent patron of a diner close to the safe house Shield had provided him with. But it was the truth, that your meal was improved by the company you had it with, and he’d been lacking company since 1945. After a bit he joined into Natasha’s teasing about Tony’s girlfriend’s reaction. He personally very much understood both Tony’s actions and motivations and would have done the same given the opportunity but it was too easy to pretend to be on Natasha’s side and Tony’s delight, when he realised that Steve was going along with ripping on him, reminded him painfully of similar conversations he’d had with Peggy and Tony’s father. He also couldn’t help but be reminded of Bucky’s indignant incredulity by the way they were talking about Pepper. Steve’s heart gave a twinge, but he kept smiling, unwilling to let the feeling of longing and regret overpower him in this moment.

The pancakes were mostly gone, coffee and tea nearly empty, when the conversation started to take a more serious turn. Barton, Banner and Tony had been talking about new ideas for arrows that Barton had and hoped Tony could realise. At the same time Natasha had started questioning him about living in the 21st century. He’d felt defensive at first but her calm, but interested gaze, set him at ease for a while, especially as she offered up more anecdotes of her own insecurities after moving stateside. He even laughed at one story about being taken to see a musical for the first time, basically kicking and screaming, by Coulson and how perplexed Coulson had been about her enthusiasm afterwards. His throat felt raw, after the little laugh escaped it and he tried not to think too hard about when he’d last been made to laugh. Natasha’s half smile was back, but there was a sheen to her eyes and Steve instantly felt sombre again, remembering that the story had been loaded with melancholy and sorrow for her due to the events of the previous day. The need to reach out to her, squeeze her arm or shoulder, came over Steve, but he refrained, opting for addressing the table instead.

“According to Agent Romanoff, Director Fury does not suspect the reason for our departure from Shield. We need to keep it that way until we have a clearer picture of Hydra’s operation and allies within Shield and outside of the organisation. Acquiring intel is our first and foremost goal for now.” Steve skipped any preamble, but looking around the table, everyone was with him instantly, stopping their conversation, sitting up and focussing on his words.

“We already know of several high-ranking Shield members who are Hydra. First and foremost, Alexander Pierce, but also Agent Sitwell, Agent Garrett, as well as the whole current STRIKE team. But there will be more. From what my doppelganger told me, a lot of people were Hydra and they were on every level. We’ll need to weed them out. And we’ll need allies to do so.” Steve looked at Barton and Natasha. “You two know the organisation best. How do we do this?”

Five hours, four carafes of coffee, three big boxes of Pizza, two fights and one kettle of tea later Steve was satisfied with the plan they’d come up with.

They’d combine their strength to gather as much intel about their enemy as they could. That would mean going after the known Hydra personal both digitally as well as using old school surveillance. Tony and Bruce would work on infiltrating Shield servers in a more sophisticated and secretive way than Tony had done on the Hellicarrier, digging deeper and trying to find Hydra or the bridges that would lead to it, as well as tracking Hydra’s known affiliates to keep up with their movements. Natasha and Clint meanwhile would do the same, deciding to shadow Pierce and Sitwell first and foremost, hoping that they’d lead them to places and people belonging to Hydra. Hoping that one of them would lead them to Bucky. On the other hand they’d do the same with people they’d want to clear of the suspicion of being Hydra, planing to take them into the fold as quickly as possible to strengthen their menpower for the inevitable showdown between the factions within the organisation. Unwilling to confide in Fury and Hill, Natasha suggested Special Agents 13 and 19. Barton coloured lightly as the mention of the second number, but Steve disregarded that reaction, trusting in Natasha’s judgment and knowledge of Barton’s personal feelings.

“That only leaves one question,” Steve said, leaning back in his chair and trying to hide his insecurity with nonchalance, “What am I supposed to do, while you guys tail Hydra leaders,” he inclined his head at Natasha and Barton, “and you two …,” he directed his gaze at Tony and Dr. Banner, “make technology to spy on them?”

If they hadn’t been on the 65th floor in Manhattan, Steve was sure he could have heard crickets in the silence that followed.

“I am still not sure, you couldn’t be a spy,” Barton finally said. While he didn’t think he was lying, he didn’t sound that convinced either. He continued anyway, “You’ve been a solider. You’ve been an insurgent. With the right kind of training… I believe you could be a spy. If you were convinced enough in the reason to lie, if not the lie itself.”

He glanced around the table. So far no one was stepping forward to back him up. “Being a spy means a lot more than just being a good liar nowadays,” Natasha said, audibly trying to keep any kind of judgement out of her voice, “There is a … technical aspect to it, that might not be on par with your knowledge.” She glanced at him. “Yet.”

Another bout of silence followed that statement. Steve felt desperate. He needed to do something. He knew that helping Banner and Tony was out of the question… but the prospect of doing nothing; of waiting around while the others gathered intel… it sounded torturous.

 “I’ll teach you,” Natasha finally conceded, then she grimaced and glanced at Barton, “ _We’ll_ teach you,” she corrected herself. It was Barton who swore under his breath a second later. Steve assumed they’d both have bruised shins the next day.

“And then there’s always dealing with the whole PR-fallout,” Tony’s grin was positively diabolical, “Pepper doesn’t trust me near any camera since revealing my ‘secret identity’.” Tony put visual air quotes around the last two words. “I am sure she’d love to have Captain American answer the public’s question in my stead and,” Steve hadn’t believed Tony’s grin could become any more self-satisfied than it had been, “You are our leader after all.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic isn't dead. I'm just struggling with college and fic logistics...

The lights were bright, blinding even, but Steve ignored them, shifting slightly in his seat. The man across from him was talking animatedly and Steve smiled as the people in the room laughed in reaction to a joke the man, Jon, had just made. Jon was complimenting him now, earning cheers and whistles from their audience. Steve ducked his head. He should have been used to the compliments by now. He’d gotten used to the attention back in the day, as well as to the leering, once Bucky had pointed out that it was happening, but nowadays people were very frank talking about how attractive they found him, men, women and the Internet alike, and he still didn’t know how to respond.

  
Jon was sobering up now, stabbing a slip of paper in front of him with a pen, while his eyes were fixed on him. “We’ve seen this before, after 9/11. Honest, hard-working people, who went into the fire and the rubble with no regard for their own lives to save those of others and when they got sick, we turned away. We honour the dead and we say ‘never forget’ once a year, but those who lived, who survived and are the reasons others did, they now suffer and they die over a decade after the fact.” Steve nodded, equally sombre. “The First Responders Bill barely got through the senate. It’s only on the books till 2015 and we can only hope it will be easier to renew it then. What makes you think it will be different for this catastrophe?”

  
Sitting up straighter, Steve put his most severe ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ face on. “It’s a travesty that it has taken so long to provide these brave people with the care they need and are, in my opinion, entitled to. We owe it to them, as we owe it to all of those who were there this time when New York, when America, needed them. What I hope is that Washington has learned a lesson from the last decade. We know the repercussions that might befall the first responders. The Department of Damage Control has done well in cleaning up what has been destroyed and its employees will have the kind of health care they will need, should they show symptoms connected to the clean-up. But we need the same kind of security for everyone, not just federal government employees. I have faith that it won’t take another decade for our elected officials to do what’s right.”

  
Cheers broke out in the crowd and Jon was extending his hand for him to shake. Steve took it, before waving at the crowd.  
“Mrs. Speaker, Senate Majority Leader? Do I really have to tell you to do as Captain America says? I didn’t think so.” More cheers and Steve gave a little salute. “Thank you so much for being here, Cap. And thank you for all that you’ve done for this city.” And with that he was dismissed. He shook Jon’s hand one final time, thanked him for inviting him to speak and bid the crowd good night.

  
Pepper was waiting for him right off stage and she fell into step with him, as he headed towards the exit of the studio. “You’ve done really well, Steve,” Pepper praised him, “I know it’s been a real marathon this week, but favourability of a federal program rises in the polls with every appearance you make. We might get a bill introduced before Christmas.” Steve nodded at that, pushing the door open to step out into the crisp New York evening. It was just past seven, but night came early in late November and the city was already brightly lit, getting ready for Christmas season. Where they were in Manhattan, Hell’s Kitchen, had been badly affected by the invasion and there was still a lot of construction going on; buildings being torn down while down the street others were already being rebuilt, often more modern houses, more expensive houses. Steve grit his teeth. He hated the idea that people had been forced from their communities by the attack and now couldn’t afford to return, even if they’d have wanted to. The studio had survived by some miracle, but Jon was aware of the displacement happening around him. His vocal support for the city’s inhabitants was the reason why this stop had been his least dreaded one this week.

  
A car pulled up in front of him and Pepper, and Steve opened the door for her to get in. She shot him a smile in thanks and scooched over to make room for him. As he watched New York pass him by, Pepper put her hand on his knee, squeezing lightly. He turned his head slightly towards her. She squeezed once more, before retracting her hand and checking her phone. “This was the last one for a while, if everything goes well.”

  
Steve’s gaze drifted back to the window. He really hoped it was. Speaking out for the first responders was important. Having public opinion on their side was important, too. Neither of these things meant that Steve enjoyed spending his evenings chatting with late night talk show hosts or wasting a whole week in meetings with senators and members of congress, in between getting grilled in hearings before such and such committee. Having Pepper with him had been a godsend. She was a veteran of this game, smart as a whip and sweet as sugar. They worked well together, and Pepper had confided that her blood pressure had become way better since Tony was more out of the spotlight and hence less likely to do something that she’d have to clean up afterwards.

  
She and Steve made a great team and she had drawn him out, when he had been ready to sink into despair, feeling useless and loathing himself still for not having found Bucky. On their second trip to the capital, Pepper had invited him down to the living room in Tony’s townhouse where they stayed, put a beer into his hand and a movie on from 1945. It had come out after the end of the war. Steve had felt uncomfortable at first, looking through a screen at a world that was in many ways more real to him than the one that he could touch with his own fingers. But then he had been drawn into the story and the things familiar to him had elicited feelings of longing but also joy and suddenly he was telling her about it all. About his life, New York in the early forties, about Bucky. When the movie was over Steve had felt drained but also calmer than in a long time. Pepper had smiled at him, curled up on the other side of the couch in yoga pants and a soft looking shirt.

  
“Thank you for telling me about all of this, Steve. I’d hoped you would.” She’d sat up and handed him a stack of Blu-Rays. “These go from 1946 to 1955. I know you’ve read history books and seen documentaries, but I think there’s no better way to see a country changing through the decades than by consuming the culture of the people at the time.” He flipped through the Blu-Rays. None of the titles were familiar, but he knew many of the faces and recognised some of the names. When he looked up, her smile was tense. “I minored in cultural studies. Seemed like a good idea?”

  
He hadn’t believed then that watching his way through the 70 years he’d missed might make him feel more connected with the world, but Pepper had been right. It was like watching the country he had known change slowly but steadily, which was less jarring than his transition had been. After all of the publicity tours with Pepper they were in 1978 now.  
It was less than twenty blocks from the studio to the newly minted Avengers Tower and so barely half an hour had passed, when Steve and Pepper got into the Avenger’s private elevator. Steve automatically pressed first Pepper’s floor and then his own; Pepper shot him a smile in thanks, before focusing on her phone again. They reached his floor first and he bid her good night before getting out and stepping into his apartment.

  
When starting renovations on the tower Tony had the mad idea to build them all their own floor. Steve had shuddered at the idea of having so much space all for himself, to fill with nothing and no one, but his own demons for company. Natasha must have had similar reservations and Tony had, in the end, relented and instead refurbished and redecorated the apartments they had moved into after the Chitauri attack and focused the rest of his energy on designing specific training, meeting, recreational and recuperation areas that were tailored to the individual Avenger’s needs as well as the possibility of them enjoying and using them together.

  
The remodelled version of Steve’s living space was still quite different from what he’d moved into a couple of months ago. Tony had insisted on tearing down the apartment that had been vacant between his and Natasha’s, adding several rooms to both his and the apartment Natasha shared with Clint. Steve now had a personal gym that was super-solider reinforced, meaning he could tire himself out in it without breaking the equipment. It also had meant adding several very specialised rooms to his apartment. Tony had first wanted to design a specific suit of rooms on a different floor for when they apprehended the Winter Solider. Natasha had made the cautious suggestion of taking him to a different facility, somewhere inconspicuous and less populated. Steve had put his foot down, though. There was no better place for Bucky than right here with Steve. So, Tony had designed a bedroom that could withstand super-soldier level violent outbreaks as well as walls and security strong enough as to contain even the Hulk and definitely Bucky. Steve had been adamantly opposed to a monitoring window, while Tony had not budged on the issue of surveillance cameras, despite this being a bedroom. “We need to know how he is doing, Cap,” Tony had told him exasperatedly, “This isn’t about spying on him but about knowing if he needs help, how he is recovering. We’ll need that kind of data.” Steve had clenched his jaw but had let Tony proceed.

  
The starkest difference from then to now though was the interior design. Tony had asked Steve about his preferences, but Steve had only shrugged and told him that his and Bucky’s apartment had nothing in it but a dusty couch, two rickety chairs, two squeaky beds and a tub that doubled as a table. Tony had been unwilling to use this as the basis for any design and instead consulted with an interior decorator and an historian of interior design specialising on the depression era. Steve had tried to tell Tony that he didn’t care about how his apartment looked as long as it was functional, but Tony had been equally unwilling to delegate decisions. And so, after a long (and painful) process Steve had been allowed to move back into the apartment and he couldn’t deny that in a miniscule way it had started to feel like home.

  
The space now always had a soft glow to it, thanks to the yellow lights that were in stark contrast to the white light in the rest of the building, while the décor itself was kept in warm colours of earthy tones, dark wood and leather seats and couches. There were accents in red and blue, as throw pillows on his subtle leather couches and little knickknacks here and there. Tony had even integrated an old record player into his otherwise high-end surround system. What nearly had him had tear up though was one of the new rooms, which went out south overlooking Grand Central Terminal, the Empire State building close by and the towers of lower Manhattan in the distance, as well as offering a view towards the Hudson River. It had natural light most of the day and it was equipped with all the things Steve Rogers, struggling artist in 1943, had only been able to dream of.

  
While nearly scared at first to touch the oil paints and the expansive canvases, the studio had slowly become his premier refuge; a space where he could escape from his teammates, his responsibilities and the world at large. What he couldn’t escape though were his memories and his thoughts, so instead he let them take over, drawing his mother, Bucky and his sisters as well as Peggy and the Commandoes. Over and over again, until they felt both less and more real than mere figments of his mind that didn’t belong into this new millennium.

  
He didn’t feel like drawing now though, as he tugged of his suit jacket and carelessly threw it over the arm of a couch. Telling Jarvis to put on one of his playlists – he’d fallen quite in love with Doris Day’s voice since watching Pillow Talk with Pepper for 1959 – he headed to the kitchen to prepare some dinner before spending the rest of the night in his office, brooding over files they’d dug up and reports his fellow Avengers and other allies had written.


End file.
